


Wide Unto Life

by icepixie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Gen, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-01
Updated: 2003-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepixie/pseuds/icepixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life, death, and everything in between. Daniel and Jack have a talk. (Spoilers for "Heroes.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wide Unto Life

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a line in _The Prophet_, by Kahlil Gibran: "If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life."

It was almost midnight when Jack stopped at the entrance to the gateroom and looked at the lone figure standing, hands clasped behind his back, at the end of the ramp leading up to the two-story ring. He was staring at the structure, still as a statue, and giving no indication that he had heard Jack approach the door.

Not willing to leave this alone, Jack hobbled into the room with as much grace as his crutches and cast would allow. If Daniel had heard him, which was questionable when he was this deep in thought, he still gave no sign.

Jack finally arrived at Daniel's side, not quite out of breath, but having exerted himself more than the new doctor, whatever his name was, would've liked. Keeping his crutch tucked securely under his arm, Jack placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"Hey."

The word finally seemed to penetrate the fog surrounding the archeologist, and he turned to look at his visitor. Jack noticed that his friend's eyes looked a little red around the rims, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he asked, "What'cha doin'?"

Daniel sighed and returned his gaze to the Stargate, then flicked it back to Jack. "I'm just..." He didn't seem able to find the words he needed, an unusual occurrence. "I'm not really sure. I went by the infirmary about--" he unclasped his hands and raised the left one up to his chest to see the watch, "--about an hour ago. Somehow, I'd forgotten...what happened, and I was looking for...for her. And then I saw the new doctor and I remembered..." He didn't bother finishing the sentence. Setting his mouth in a straight, firm line, he returned his gaze to the 'Gate, keeping it locked straight ahead and slightly up so that, Jack suspected, he wouldn't cry.

Janet Fraiser's memorial service had been yesterday. It had only been five days since her death on P3X-666, where she was shot while trying to save a member of SG-13, and they were all still grieving. Jack had seen the toll Janet's death had taken on his friend. There was the shell-shocked expression that had lived on Daniel's face since that horrible, never-ending day; and then during the memorial service, the way he'd clasped his hands in front of him so tightly that the knuckles had turned white, and the way he'd never taken his eyes from this concrete floor through the entire thing.

Jack gently squeezed Daniel's shoulder. "Look, Daniel." He got the younger man to look at him. "You of all people should know how long this is gonna take."

Daniel closed his eyes and blew out a breath through pursed lips. Eventually, he nodded in agreement with Jack's words. "Yeah. I know." He opened his eyes again. "I just...after I descended and after I remembered everything, I felt like somebody had given me a second chance to do things right. And then just as I realized what I had, it all got taken away from me again." Jack saw Daniel ball his fists up like he wanted to hit something, then slowly relax them as he reminded himself that there was nothing there to strike.

Daniel remembered again the moment of Janet's death. He had been there. He had been cradling her small form in his arms when he saw the life drain out of her eyes. He had been the last thing she'd seen before she died, and he had been the one to close the lids over those soft brown eyes that would never see anything again. There was nothing after that; he honestly could not remember how he had gotten off the planet and back to the SGC. Everything was her too-pale skin, the dark blood all over her body and his, the deep regret in her eyes, the breathless, beseeching "Daniel" that still rang in his ears.

He was brought back to the present by another "Daniel," this time from Jack, and with an impatient quality that suggested this was not the first time his friend had called his name.

"Hmm?"

Jack's tone softened. "She was my friend, too, Daniel, even if she did try stick a needle in my butt every time I saw her. But even though we're talking about her in past tense now, she's always gonna be here." He placed the hand that had been on Daniel's shoulder over his own heart. "You just have to let go enough to let her in."

Daniel stared at his friend, amazed that those words had come from the mouth of Jack O'Neill. And yet, the older man had dealt with at least as much death and grief as Daniel himself had. Perhaps he was uniquely qualified to say such things, especially when Daniel needed to remember how to mourn.

Before Daniel could reply, Jack curled his fingers around his crutch. "Well. I'm supposed to be resting right now, so I guess I'll go and do that. G'night, Daniel." He nodded his head in lieu of a wave and swung around to face the door. He was getting almost nimble on the damn things.

"Good night, Jack," Daniel called to his friend's retreating back.

The rhythmic squeak-step pattern of Jack's locomotion echoed around the chamber, then slowly diminished into nothing as Jack exited and headed down the hall toward the elevator. Daniel turned to look again at the vast, silent Stargate.

_Goodbye, Janet,_ he told the broken, lifeless body that had haunted his dreams at night and his thoughts during the day. He then called up his favorite image of her--laughing at something, spirit free and eyes sparkling, while they indulged in their shared love of a good French Roast. _And welcome back._


End file.
